Let it slide | Notice

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Remember when you were visiting family and they would pull out the slide projector for the three hour presentation of their trip to Carlsbad Caverns and Dodge City?

Now I loved the family vacation as much as the next child. But, it was our family vacation, not someone else’s. And the vacation that included a three-hour presentation of your loved ones donning swimsuits, tank tops, and tennis shoes, while smiling and standing in front of a tourist trap in New Mexico, was not the way you would. wanted to spend a 4th of july or a work day weekend.

The journey would start something like this:

Child in the back of Buick: “Daddy, are we going to Wally World, or are they going to show us those stupid vacation photos again?”

Dad: “Don’t make me stop this car. “

Mom: “Honey, Clovis spends a lot of time and money taking these photos and having them developed. We have to be nice and watch the show.

Another kid in the back of Buick: “I have to potty.

And that’s how the family vacation begins. A vacation that will include traveling a great distance, only to sit cross-legged in a shag rug and spend hours reliving someone else’s vacation.

Children today don’t know how badly they have it. Slide projectors have replaced the wall phone. We no longer have to worry about someone getting up from the dinner table, heading to the hallway closet and dragging the Bell and Howell to set up a showing of 100 photo slides on the dining room wall. chic.

Back in those days, adults were buying homes with a chic living room with plastic-covered furniture and a chic dining room with a long table and lots of chairs – none of which have never been used.

With the exception of the chic dining room, which was only used if the company was over and the slide projector came out.

For those who have never lived through this era, let me explain.

A long, long time ago (the 1970s), before the Internet and cable TV, there were small devices that we took with us to take pictures. These devices were called cameras. And inside these cameras we put a medium called film, which when exposed through a lens captured a moment in time.

When the film ran out, it was taken to a camera store where it was developed and placed either on photographic paper or on something called slides.

Slides were small, square, transparent images of each photo that, when placed in the carousel of a slide projector, could be projected onto a screen or wall. Each projector had a powerful bulb that could project a large, crystal-clear image of Aunt Nelda eating an ice cream cone at a roadside stop somewhere outside of Walla Walla.

Not that anyone but Uncle Clovis and Aunt Nelda wanted to see said slide, but the spotlight made slices of such gripping history available to those held captive in a living room in 1973.

And he did. Often. Too often. Like, every time you go to their house.

Child in the back of Buick: “Dad, I thought about it. Please stop the car.

Dad: “Is there a liquor store around here?” “

Slideshows were once intended for schools and corporate events. The educational possibilities were endless. But, once slides and slide projectors became affordable to the masses, slide presentations went from accomplishments of a company over the past year to photos of cousins ​​squinting at the camera in front of them. a dinosaur-themed motel somewhere on Route 66.

Once the slideshows in the fancy dining room started, I tried to find some kind of excuse to leave the room. I learned that a sick stomach, leg cramps, dysentery, stroke, heart attack, radiation exposure, and Ebola were no excuses for being allowed out of the fancy dining room.

If daddy had to sit through the slideshow, we all had to sit through the slideshow.

The worst part of the projector presentations was when they announced it was the last slide of their vacation, only to then announce that they had Christmas slides. With us. In which we were. And we had seen it before.

Child: “Daddy, can we go home now?”

Dad: “Not until you find a liquor store.”

And that’s how, kids, your parents and grandparents spent their vacation. Consider yourself lucky. Instead of watching a long slideshow in Uncle Clovis and Aunt Nelda’s house, you can burrow into your cell phone.

Or my cell phone. I have some pictures of your grandmother and I that were taken at bingo in Vegas.

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